


Unsolicited Christmas cheer

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Cranky Fluff, Hannibal is smitten, M/M, Manipulating Hannibal, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Episode: s02e08 Su-zakana, Season 2, Will Graham is So Done, Will is angry, hannibal is so in love, ladder sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: Hannibal has a Christmas gift for Will, who is not in the mood for holiday cheer.OrAngry, Christmas ladder sex.“It's ChristmasEve,” Hannibal said, the term falling oddly from his foreign tongue, “and I believe it is tradition to honor your loved ones with a present.”Will flinched as he turned back to his chair, watching the shiny, golden package with an open grimace.“Your... loved ones?” he scoffed, saliva spraying in small drops from his lips as he forced out the words.He could count the days since he had stood in Hannibal's kitchen, gun aimed at the man's head, on ten fingers exactly. Ten days since he had stepped out of the prison Hannibal had designed for him, and where he had left him to simmer in his own insanity.“Did you just say yourlovedones?”
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 351





	Unsolicited Christmas cheer

“What is _this_?” 

Will was still unwrapping his scarf with a yank from his fingers as he barged past Hannibal and into his office. In the bee-line he made for his usual chair, he saw it.

Waiting for him there was a neatly wrapped gift, covered prettily with smooth, golden paper and a red, velvet bow on the narrowing shape at the top. 

“It's a gift,” Hannibal said, his eyes following Will with a sideways glance as he closed the door behind him. Creating a space for two only.

Will's sharp eyes flashed back to the man, dressed in gray and white – a tie red as dead blood – and watched Hannibal approach with carefully casual steps as he gestured to the gift with a lighthearted flick of his wrist.

Rehearsed.

“It's Christmas _Eve_ ,” Hannibal said, the term falling oddly from his foreign tongue, “and I believe it is tradition to honor your loved ones with a present.”

Will flinched as he turned back to his chair, watching the shiny, golden package with an open grimace.

“Your... loved ones?” he scoffed, saliva spraying in small drops from his lips as he forced out the words. 

He could count the days since he had stood in Hannibal's kitchen, gun aimed at the man's head, on ten fingers exactly. Ten days since he had stepped out of the prison Hannibal had designed for him, and where he had left him to simmer in his own insanity. 

“Did you just say your _loved_ ones?”

The words hissed from between his teeth as he turned his head with a sharp twist, watching Hannibal stare at him with eyes that shimmered in the light of his desk lamp. 

“Does this surprise you?” the man asked him calmly, and Will felt a pull beneath his jaw. His fingers itched to lash out. To feel warm flesh and bruise it. Tear it. Have it.

“Not two weeks ago today I was locked up because of you,” he sneered, standing behind the chair that held his gift, ignoring it. His coat and scarf were carelessly thrown sideways on the duvet.

Hannibal smiled softly. “And now you are here, dear Will,” he said, pleased and smug and utterly maddening. Every emotion was carefully tucked away behind that straight curve of his mouth, but Will could see the curtains of those honey eyes falling to the side a little more with every stroke of their frequent gazing.  
He wanted Will to see him.

“Doctor Lecter...” Will hissed low in his throat; a punctuation on the formality that should exist between them, and a warning that boiled angrily in his belly. His fingers curled into the backrest of the chair with force. Enough, he hoped, to bruise the leather.

Hannibal's eyes were an endless golden depth, holding Will's gaze as if it fed him pure delight before he walked past him to take place in his own, opposite seat. “What we have might be unconventional, to some,” he offered, far too casual for the content. His long legs – clad in checkered gray – crossed, and his hands came to rest atop his bended knee. “But convention has never been a priority for either one of us, Will.”

Will snatched the gift from the chair before he sank fiercely into his seat. The wrapped item on his lap felt heavy and cold.

“Who else gets a gift?” he snarled, pulling up his lip as he felt Hannibal's hooded gaze weighing hot on him. Patient, and deep. “Who else is... _loved_?” he spat the question, face heated with creeping blood. 

Hannibal smiled, leaning back in his seat. The hair in that perfect coif gleamed silver and gold in the lamplight. “Alana gets a bottle of my own brewed beer,” he said, tilting his head. “Jack gets some of my homemade duck paté.” He was pleased. Pleased as punch. “And Miss Du Maurier gets a home cooked dish of tender veal.”

Will scoffed, crossing his legs with a kick as he held his gift in two open hands. 

“Serving your inner circle bits of your victims' remains is nothing more than self-indulgence,” he accused the cannibal with heat. “That's not love.” 

Hannibal smiled at him, sharp teeth only barely hinting from behind those pink lips. He looked at Will with a gentle pause, before he lowered his shoulders with a silent sigh. 

“No,” he said, a single shake of his head.

He looked real and human. Soft against the square lines of the chair. His suit pressed into the broad lines of his shoulders, and the dip of his waist. The white of his shirt brought forth the tanned skin and the brightness of those honey eyes.

Alive.

But Will knew he was far beyond.

He lowered his eyes to the gift in his hand. “And for me...” he drawled, as his fingers tore at the red bow and the golden paper, ripping it from a heavy bottle.

Liquid as golden as the paper, revealed. The label familiar only from the shelves behind the register. 

“A bottle of overpriced scotch.”

A store-bought bottle; the metallic cap sealed shut.

“With love,” Hannibal offered, twisting his ankle to rotate his Italian leather shoe with lazy circles. His voice was serrated with tenderness, and Will swallowed hard.

“Is my gift the only one that isn't ultimately for your own enjoyment?” he breathed sharply, his fingers playing with the metallic cap. “Is mine the only one given without an ulterior motive?”

He watched Hannibal's lips twitch. “There _is_ an ulterior motive, Will,” he spoke with eyes that shone darker with every passing breath between them. 

Will's fingers tested the cap, strongly sealed, before he broke it with a twist. “Which is?” he grunted, eyes narrowed and chin held up in a challenging defiance.

Hannibal's elbows leaned on the armrests. “Other than your gratitude,” he said, a slow blink from those fathomless eyes, “I very much long to see you satisfied and spoiled.”

Will's fingers trembled on the glass neck of the bottle as he held it to his chest. A scowl his only response to the words that licked flames along his neck and thighs.

Hannibal tilted his head again, watching him closely without applying tangible pressure. “Perhaps it would have made you smile,” he spoke as his lips pressed up, almost ruefully, with a longing that made Will's insides wring cruelly tight.

Hannibal's large hand gestured to the table by his chair, where two, clean glasses were present. The sight suddenly very loud in the quiet room. “We could have shared a drink and spent a little extra time.”

Will's breath was shallow in his chest as Hannibal lowered his head and whispered: “As you can see, my motives are entirely selfish, Will.”

Ashamed, contrite, humble. Hannibal was none of those things.

“For fuck's sake, why?!” Will shot at him, his bottom lip between his teeth and his voice like a hailstorm on a river. Hannibal had mangled him, wrung him out and displayed him like a rough gem before the polish.

And now he wanted... _what_? 

“I cherish your company like I never have another's,” Hannibal said, clean, true.

Like Will was his only bruise on pristine flesh.

“You want to be my friend,” Will replied, flat and dumb and painfully cold.

Hannibal wrung his hands together as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I've got little experience with friendship, Will,” he offered shamelessly. “Friends serve the purpose of exchanging advice, giving validation and passing time with common interests.” A small wave of his hand added no weight to the confession, as he smiled and freely admitted: “I have never lacked these purposes or sought them out in others.”

A small chuckle followed, and Will watched those strong shoulders flex beneath the gray of his suit.

No, Hannibal never needed another to endorse him.

It wasn't a friendship the man was looking for with him. It never had been.

Inside, the wrongly shaped words fell down with weight that hurt heavy in his stomach. It was infuriatingly true, he knew. Hannibal liked him, more and other, and the teeth in Will's mouth ground with what that knowledge freed in him, and what it stopped from flowing.

_“I envy you your hate. It makes it easier when you know how to feel.”_

“Goddamnit,” Will grunted under his breath, the bottle coming to stand on the armrest as he clung to the neck. “Then what _are_ you looking for?” 

Hannibal's eyes settled, if possible, even more wholesome on his, as Will challenged him against his better judgment.

“A piece of my soul,” he breathed, pupils pushing darker in the golden ring. “An intimacy, a beauty, that could only be created by that singularly, perfectly fitting piece.”

And the word friendship was forever lost in that declaration.

Hannibal looked at him with eyes like shining candles, wet and bright and raw with vulnerability. “Fuck.” Will forced himself back in his chair as he watched Hannibal lean on his legs – his hope bouncing hard off of Will's chest with every word spoken.

Will 's free hand dug hard into the leather of his seat, as his feet shuffled against the floor. “And you think that's what this is?” he wheezed, breath shallow and painful in his lungs. The way Hannibal was looking at him felt almost like a liquid hand, twisting around his throat and squeezing with a near-possessing heat.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, his expression soft and yearning as Will scrambled off the chair with a stumbling swing of limbs.

“Fuck,” he spat again, feeling hysteria open in his chest and holding on to the bottle tightly as he scuffled back until his legs hit the desk. “This isn't...”

He felt dizzy with the waves that crashed inside him and where words failed to come, he gestured wildly with his hands.

Hannibal stood from his chair. “Why did you come here tonight, Will?” he said, voice low and hot as it stroked up Will's spine with every curl of that tongue. “Why did you come back to me?” Those long legs walked closer, stopping right in front of Will who leaned back against the desk, one hand bracing himself against the wood.

Will grimaced as he brought the bottle to his chest. He knew why he had come back to Hannibal and his therapy sessions. He _knew_ why he had come. He knew! It wasn't because of... No, it wasn't.

It was to avenge himself. To open the eyes of Jack and Alana, and redeem his own name and sanity.

For Abigail and Beverly and all those others. For justice. Revenge.

Not because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about... No. It hadn't been curiosity or that pull he felt when... It hadn't been some sort of need for...

“You betrayed me,” Will spat, yanking the cap from the bottle and taking a hard swig. His throat burned with a stripping sting, and he coughed and sputtered the words that followed. “You violated me,” he rasped, thudding the bottle against Hannibal's chest before he took another sip. “You abused me and framed me.” He was yelling now, but he didn't care. “And you had me and the rest of the world believing I had lost my _fucking mind_.”

He turned from the desk, stomping around it to fling himself into the chair on the other side. His legs dropped on top of the surface, linking at the ankles as he took another swig from the bottle. Fuck it.

Hannibal, remaining on the opposite side, leaned one hip against the desk to seat himself sideways. “I realized I had made a mistake when you were gone.” His words were velvet tears on Will's insides. Contrite. Golden eyes drooped sadly as he watched Will with that gleaming gaze. “I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, knowing you wouldn't show for our next appointment.”

He sounded fragile as his fingers played with loose drawings on his desk – two of them trapped by Will's dirty boots.

He had missed him. Hannibal Lecter had locked him up, and then fucking missed him.

“Because _you_ put me away,” Will exclaimed, shaking his head with a low and desperate laugh. “Un-fucking-believable,” he scoffed, putting the bottle back on his lips.

Hannibal's brow furrowed. “This is all very new to me,” he urged, his hand coming to rest on a warm sock that peeked over Will's shoe. “No one has ever affected me in such a manner before.”

The touch was warm and dry. Safe. But it stirred heavily in Will's abdomen and pulled at his core. It wasn't safe at all.

“I should have shot you when I had the chance,” Will growled, twisting his ankle to shake off the hand. “What the hell did you think was going to happen after everything you did to me?” He pulled his feet back, taking some stained drawings to the floor as he sat himself up. 

Hannibal pulled back his hand, cradling it to his chest with the other as if he'd been bitten. “I had yet to understand the capacity of my feelings for you,” he defended, looking at him from under long lashes.

Like he wasn't the devil.

“This is _madness_ ,” Will yelled into the bottle, as he spun the chair from left to right with his feet. “I will never be able to trust you.”

Hannibal sighed, fingers coming to loosen the red tie as his free hand pushed back his neat hair, releasing some strands to fall on his forehead.

“Then trust yourself,” he said, before placing both hands on the middle of the desk, leaning forward and demanding Will's eyes. “You know what brought you back here, Will,” his voice was carried on a single, soft breath, and he suddenly felt very close as Will looked up at him from over his bottle. 

“As you know what we both keep coming back for.”

Eyes of blood and honey burned Will's cheeks even harder than the alcohol in his gut. He felt heavy, leaning back in the desk chair as Hannibal inched closer from the other side. Hair loose, cheeks a lively pink and tie halfway undone.

“You, too, feel how we are both shaped to fit the other.”

The words were a dream, a hiss from the darkness, and Will felt his shoulders tense with the shiver that spread through him like lightning. Those smoldering eyes rendered him weak – forward from what he didn't dare to step away from.

Fuck. Fuck!

Hannibal read him from across the desk. Eating him alive with those soft, open eyes as Will turned the chair, jumping from it as he stumbled sideways.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, as he found himself against the pillar. Wide-eyed, gaping and waiting as he watched Hannibal walk around the desk, moving swiftly and quietly as he came to stand before him. Not touching a single inch of Will's skin, but wrapping him tightly in his presence.

“Look at me,” Hannibal begged heatedly. His irises were near black as hot breaths stroked Will's cheeks. He smelled like oak and blown-out candles, and knees buckled as Will leaned his weight against the pillar, eyes flickering to pink, parted lips as they spoke to him.

“I love you, Will.”

Fuck.

Thick arousal and tears; that was what shot up from deep in Will's toes all the way to his rolling eyeballs.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

He stumbled, pushing himself away from the pillar as the bottle slipped from his hand and spilled onto the floor. He felt Hannibal watching him as he walked to the duvet. His coat was there. His scarf was, too. He could grab them and leave. He _could_.

Behind him, Hannibal placed the bottle on the desk. The remains of the golden liquid sloshed against the glass. “I made a mistake, but I understand now,” he said, and Will felt his hands quiver as he clamped them into his own, flannel shirt. Blue and soft and wrinkling beneath his grasp. 

“You're all that matters now, Will,” Hannibal said, eyes pink around the rim as his voice cracked along the velvet lines. “Nothing else remains.”

Will's legs buckled again, unable to support him. The ladder was there for him to lean against as he breathed and breathed, loud and tight and rapidly.

And Hannibal came to him, once more. Standing before him, light in his back, strong and tall and soft with open adoration.

“I know now how much I need you with me,” he whispered, as he placed his hands on the ladder beside Will's head, “now and forever, Will,” 

His warmth and scent thickly coated Will's, as Hannibal's nose ran along the length of his with childish wonder. “And how much I need to see you fulfilled.”

Will heard himself moan like a traitor, as his clamping hands reached to close into the fabric of Hannibal's suit jacket.

Fuck. Fuck this. 

The world spun as he looked at Hannibal, pink, undone and shimmering with hope. Desire flowing free like from an open window. Of course Will had known. Of course Will had felt it there. 

But this was Hannibal Lecter. The Ripper. The Killer. And Will had needed to have his reckoning, his revenge. Above any yearning or any treacherous need. 

He had needed to make Hannibal his case. His long-term project. To work with Hannibal, come to his office, his house, all with the higher purpose, the excuse, to catch him as the Ripper. To bring him in and put him away.

A reason to just keep coming back.

“Fuck you,” he spat to either one of them, as his hands came to stomp weakly at the broad chest before him. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck -.”

His fingers pulled harshly on the white fabric of Hannibal's shirt, yanking him close and attacking his mouth with sloppy, angry, open lips.

“-you.” Will's teeth were sharp and vicious on Hannibal's soft mouth, as he bit that plush, pink bottom lip between them with a fierce growl.

The ladder was in his back, and his nails were digging into the fabric of that white shirt as he assaulted the man's mouth with punishing snaps, licks and pulls.

“Fuck you, Hannibal,” he grunted, ass digging hard against the ladder.

That strong body was on him, whole and hard and willing as Hannibal gasped against him, surrendering entirely to the invasion that was Will. 

And it only fueled his flame.

“I hate you,” Will bit against the bruised mouth, fingers now ripping down the gray jacket until it hung from the other man's elbows. The tie was yanked away, and a button sprung free from wrinkled fabric. “I hate you for what you've done to me.”

The shirt was ripped, showing skin from collarbone to bellybutton. Soft and hairy, tanned and strong. Will's nails dug into the flesh without a moment's hesitation. Wanting to feel and tear and devour.

“Just you, Will?” Hannibal hissed against his lips, and Will sucked that lower lip between his teeth with a growl. Biting and bruising until he tasted blood.

Will didn't know the answer. Everything seemed to be fading so rapidly.

“You're a monster,” he whined, feeling soft skin and hair beneath his fingertips, and a hard nipple against the tip of his thumb. He wanted him closer, sinking in, crawling under, until it swallowed him whole. His flesh and his thoughts. 

Hannibal's fingers were on the buttons of Will's flannel, opening them with hands less steady than usual. Affected.

“Does that bother you?” Hannibal asked Will between sharp pants of breath, before he dipped his head and kissed the skin of Will's neck with those bruised, bitten, soft lips. Tender, so tender, it made Will sob into ash blond hair.

Did it bother him? Will's fingers tangled in that hair as those lips traveled up his throat, his jaw, and started kissing softly on his reciprocating mouth. An exploring, begging, hopeful dance that opened their lips, and had their tongues slide together with a trembling moan.

Did it bother him that Hannibal was a monster?

Will's cock was filling out behind his zipper, and his hips urged forward in need of friction.

Not like it should. Not at all like it really, really should.

“Christ, Hannibal,” he sobbed, as their bare chests met in warm harmony, and Hannibal's mouth adored every inch of skin on his face. His hands clawed at the bare, strong back as the man in his arms brushed their noses together again.

Endless black, outlined by golden joy.

“Now that we both know ourself with the other, there is no need for anything but pleasure,” Hannibal hummed, as if he had pulled the thoughts right from Will's skull to sooth them away with the curl of his foreign accent.

The ladder was against his shoulders, his back, the curve of his ass and the hollow of his knees, as Hannibal pushed against him, melting their bodies together while Will's nails scratched down the skin of his back. 

His hard cock met the outline of Hannibal's, as his hips stuttered with need to meet. “No,” he moaned weakly, as he pressed his clothed length against Hannibal's in the gray slacks. Feeling the heavy warmth challenging his, and the confirmation that Hannibal indeed wanted him just like that.

“Please.”

His fists came back to push and pounce weakly against those hard plates of glorious chest, as his mouth opened slack and willingly into the kisses that smoothed over his lips and chin.

“The way you haunt every dream,” Hannibal groaned into him, pressing his hips tighter against Will's. “The way you fuel the blood to the veins that root into the life of my every existing day.”

Big words that sang round in Will's skull. He felt his cock pulse with every press, and rolled his hips with Hannibal's as his head fell back against the ladder.

“I had yet to discover this with you,” Hannibal growled into his neck as his hands stroked feverishly into Will's curls. “But the way you sound, and taste and feel, my Will...” 

Will's fingers hooked into the chest hair that brushed against the bare skin of his own. 

“You are the paragon of perfection.”

Will bit Hannibal's shoulder at his broken words of praise, and fought both the tears and smile that buckled behind his skull.

“Fucking hell, Hannibal,” he snarled, scratching the hard buds of Hannibal's nipples with blunt nails to feel the man hiss against his mouth.

God. Everything was light and sensation, sound and stimulation.

It hadn't been like this with others. Blind and quick and numb and senseless. This wasn't like that at all.

Hannibal's broad hands came from around him, sneaking between the wooden rungs, and cupped Will's ass fully with his fingers. Digging into well filled-out, moss-colored corduroy until he was squeezing the plump flesh with a grateful, greedy grip.

The relieved moan that followed into his neck was enough for Will to know Hannibal had just surrendered to a long and pent up fantasy.

“Uhhh.” Will's cock twitched, wet and hard in his pants as he pushed back into the touch. “Christ.” His head thudded against the ladder as Hannibal pressed tighter against him, controlling Will's hips with the hands on his ass, until they rutted together through thin layers of clothing in a tight and warm, chafing rhythm that pulled pants and groans from both their mouths.

“Let me fulfill you, Will,” Hannibal breathed, digging fingers along the cleft of Will's ass as he rained wet, control-less kisses on any surface he could reach. Their hard nipples brushed, their stomachs too, and Will could feel his dick weeping on itself as his knees buckled underneath him.

“Fuck. No,” he whined, digging his own fingers into the strong swell of Hannibal's firm, round behind in protest. “I've never...”

His words broke in a moan when Hannibal squeezed his butt tighter, aligning their hard cocks and rubbing the bare skin of their torsos with a whole and hot friction that nearly made him weep.

Face to face – blown eye to blown eye.

“Good,” Hannibal groaned, fingers rubbing up and down between Will's cheeks as the other hand came back to the front and palmed his hot, wet erection over his pants. “That's what I wanted.”

Will gasped, his body wet hot with pleasure as his hips started riding Hannibal's hand. Hannibal wanted to possess him, he knew. Hannibal wanted him a virgin in that most vulnerable way. Hannibal wanted to fuck him and break him and have him forever, and Will leaked his underwear wet because of it.

“No,” he scoffed weakly, as his fingers found the button on Hannibal's slacks. “You don't just get to fuck me.” Their lips met in quick, sharp kisses as his hand grabbed the thick, hard length of Hannibal's cock. So big he couldn't close his fingers. “I'll fuck you.”

Hannibal's breath came out in sharp puffs of air, as he traced the shell of Will's ear with the tip of his tongue.

“You will,” he breathed deep, as Will's thighs shivered and fingers spasmed around Hannibal's length, “if it's what you need.” A hot tongue dipped into his ear, and more liquid pleasure burned Will from his groin to his ankles to the tightening roots of his hair.

“It's not what you need, now.”

Will shuddered as Hannibal rocked his hips, fucking into his hand as he reached for Will's zipper and lowered it with openly quivering fingers.

“Allow me,” Hannibal purred into his ear as he exposed Will to the cooler air of the office, and tested his weight in the palm of his hand.

Will was smaller, wet and pink, blushing and leaking and cut. And Hannibal looked at him like he was at the entrance of the pearly gates. Will's mouth opened slack and desperate as Hannibal looked between them, studying with bared praise in those usually concealing eyes.

“You are a wonder,” Hannibal moaned as he sank to his knees as if in trance, and came to breathe on the head of Will's cock with complete and shameless awe.

“Fuck you,” Will forced from his trembling lips, his hips spasming and the sight before him enough to make him offer everything up. But he didn't have to. Hannibal was not looking to humiliate him. He wanted to earn him.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Hannibal's tongue searched out the dripping slit and licked a broad stripe of liquid into his mouth. The man then closed his eyes, as if tasting divinity, before he opened them again to look at Will with flushed cheeks, messy hair and blown gold that challenged and beckoned him in a single blink.  
“Fuck you, Hannibal,” Will spat again, fingers nestling in those unruly strands to make this perfect man a mess. This man, who wanted to sit on his knees and blow him until Will would give himself completely.

Hannibal's hands slid up his belly as he dipped his head, ran his tongue up the head of his cock and brought the taste of Will deeper into his impatient mouth.

“Fuck,” Will keened, gripping him tighter by the hair as he looked down his body where Hannibal's mouth folded around the head of his cock. Suddenly, he was on him like a starving man. Licking and sucking around the flesh as he took him further, deeper. “Ooooh fuck.”

Will was gone, lost inside that scorching hot, velvet mouth. It was tight and pulled him in with victorious vigor, just as it was cruelly skilled and full of worship. Will was beyond overwhelmed, yet his pressing fingers only demanded more.

Hannibal's mouth slid around him, pushing further until the head of Will's cock nudged against the back of his throat, and Will released a surrendering whimper, hidden in a violent shout.  
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Will was reduced to nothing but raw nerves, pumping blood and burning skin, as Hannibal cherished him with his mouth and tongue and the hollow of his cheeks. Swallowing him, Hannibal's muscles milked around his shaft, a perfect fit that left Hannibal's open eyes pink and wet with effort.

He suckled him, teasing, as his throat contracted and squeezed Will's erection with a wet, firm grasp, and Will held on tightly to the ladder as his cock was sucked like it had never once been before.  
Divinely cruel and heavenly sinful.

“Jesus Christ,” Will grunted under the pleasure Hannibal gripped around him. They were both wet with perspiration, tears, arousal and torn skin, as their hair clung to their foreheads. 

Hannibal squeezed his tight balls gently in his palm as he sucked Will tight and wet, with long strokes in and quick strokes out; touching all the sensitive parts beneath the head and up the slit with the lapping of his tongue.

“My Will,” Hannibal croaked, as his lips slid up and down Will's shaft like a loving caress that had him moaning like a wounded animal. His pants were pulled further down, and as Hannibal took him back in with a deep swallow, one finger slid up the bare crease of Will's ass.

“Oh. Oh.”

He wasn't resisting, because when the finger circled the tightly clenched hole, Will felt his balls tighten with the added pleasure. 

“Ah.”

The fingers teased, and he pressed his own hand over his mouth not to betray his desperate want. He wanted Hannibal. He wanted him there.

But the man would be so goddamn smug about it.  
“Beautiful,” Hannibal praised, as he tested one digit by sliding in the tip. He was tightly gripped by a fluttering squeeze, and those honey eyes glazed over with desire that Will felt answered in his own, pulsing cock.

Of course he had thought about doing this before. With Hannibal. Never before, and never with another. He had pictured it as he had touched himself those long nights in prison. But he had hated himself for wanting it. It had felt like his own betrayal.

It seemed they had both been nothing but desperate fools.

Hannibal came up from his knees and pressed one firm hand against Will's chest, stabilizing him there as he moved to and back from the desk in a blink of Will's hazy eyes. A click of an opened bottle brought Will's attention down.

“You keep lubricant in your office?” he flinched, before sinking warmly into the kiss that was placed against his open lips.

“Since your first appointment,” Hannibal confirmed happily and hooded-eyed, as he slicked his fingers before Will's widening stare.

Their bodies pressed together again – hard, wet cocks meeting with a slide that made them both gasp into each other's mouths, and cling to little remaining clothes.

“Do you want this, sweet Will?” Hannibal whispered, as he slid his slick finger past Will's angry cock and tight balls, teasing it against his entrance.

“Fuck you,” Will sighed again, licking into Hannibal's mouth as he pressed back onto the searching finger. He had tried it himself, a few times. It was never what he was looking for.

Hannibal ignored his buckling hips, and used his other hand to capture Will's chin, forcing their eyes to connect.

“Will?” he asked, as the tip of his finger probed against Will's hole. Will knew he was done playing games, and that he needed to know.

“Yes,” he grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, yes.” He felt his own sobs shaking in his chest as Hannibal sagged against him, biting his mouth with happy little nips as he pushed a finger deep inside Will's body without a second wasted.

Will cried out. Not with pain, but with his own, long-denied freedom, as he pushed back on the finger, instantly demanding more. 

“God, yes.” Will bore down for better access, and moaned when his body hungrily accepted Hannibal in further. Up to the last knuckle, Will was pushing himself against the targeting finger. 

He knew he was wriggling impatiently on Hannibal's touch and hissed when Hannibal pressed another finger to his entrance, before sliding it past the tight ring and into the clenching, smooth opening.

“Fu-uck Hannibal,” he moaned when the man curved his fingers and brushed up against a little nub inside of him that made his thighs buckle and his ass clench around the intrusion. He gasped, writhing shamelessly on Hannibal's hand as he moved against that blinding spot inside of him with tapping fingertips and a victorious groan into his temple.

He was standing upright, his entire weight against the tilted ladder as Hannibal worked him open with one moving hand, while the other curled skilfully around his and Will's shafts. Pumping and teasing and rubbing them together as he bucked against Will and let his body swallow the third finger that pushed in with a greedy gulp. 

“You feel truly divine,” Hannibal moaned against his skin, and Will's eyes were back in his head as he lost direction of whether to push forward into the tight squeeze, or back into the hot rubbing fingers inside his ass. He had never been able to find that pleasure spot Hannibal was now targeting with a vicious precision, and the way Hannibal's skin slid with his from chest to knees lit a spark that heated him from the inside out.

He let out a primal grunt, both angry and pleading, as Hannibal started working his fingers swiftly into Will's willing, squeezing body, and slid the wet head of his cock along the length of his own. Stroking and kneading and pushing. Rubbing his body along Will's and possessing him from the inside out until Will was a mewling, overstimulated mess.

“Stop dragging this out,” Will hissed, knowing he was going to lose control like a blushing virgin, without Hannibal's cock even coming near his ass. It was embarrassing, both the idea and the notion of how much he wanted it inside of him. 

“Just fucking put it in.”

Hannibal looked at him at nose length before he withdrew his fingers from Will's body, leaving him empty and squirming. His hand came up between them, and Hannibal kept his honey eyes on Will with fire as he slid three digits between his lips, sucking the taste of Will's body off with open reverence.

“You big beast,” Will scolded before he accepted those fingers into his own mouth, and their lips met between them. A sloppy kiss that tasted of the clean musk of his body, and the vibration of Hannibal's arousal was enough to make them both cling to the other with abandoned need.

“Let me,” Hannibal hummed as he took back his hand, and pushed Will's ass down against a rung, trapping him against the wood and his body as he tucked his pants down to expose himself fully, but nothing more.

He was thick and heavy and his balls were dark and tight. Will's legs parted wider at the sight, as Hannibal slicked himself up with the lubricant that made him shine in the dim light.

Just like this, face to face, standing and leaning against the ladder. Breathing and feeling and living. Intimate and inescapably together.

“You weaken me,” Hannibal sighed against his mouth, his arms curling around Will as he positioned himself between his legs. He was one rung lower, and just in the proper position to connect as he tilted Will's hips forward and rubbed the head of his thick cock against Will's entrance.

Their eyes were open, on the other, with their noses rubbing in between.

“And it's beautiful,” Hannibal whispered, eyes flowing over with his tears as he pushed into Will's body with a slow, solid stroke.

Will trembled as his body gave way, allowing the length of Hannibal's cock inside his ass, while it stretched and burned and squeezed in protest.

“Fuck, Hannibal,” he choked, feeling his loins burn with a pleasure that filled him wholly. This, them together, he knew was the cure for the torture that had destroyed them both.

Painful and destructive and just right, like they both needed life.

Will flung one arm around Hannibal's neck as he held on, kissing him and meeting him deeper as their foreheads pressed together with the wet slide of their skin. He felt Hannibal's tears on his cheek, as the man murmured endless praise against his mouth.

All the way in, and out with a drag that made Will's fingers curl. Pain danced with pleasure until it was one and the same, and golden eyes that pushed wide to black were on him, watching, worshiping, drowning in him as Will clung to the man that was buried inside.

“I love you,” Hannibal croaked as he slowly pushed back into Will's ass. Hips meeting each other with great need, and hands pulling at their open shirts to find leverage between frantic kisses.

“You're the only thing in life that makes me fear death,” Hannibal sighed, his hips stuttering with shorter thrusts that landed right on Will's swollen prostate. 

“You're exquisite, Will,” he breathed against Will's cheeks in a tender confession. “You're a marvelous wonder made from my missing rib.”

Will grunted as he fucked himself back on Hannibal's cock, forcing him to keep the pace brutal.

The Eve to his Adam, Hannibal called him.

“Fuck you, you cruel son of a bitch,” he gritted, bouncing against the creaking ladder as Hannibal stared at him with starry eyes. “Just make me come.”

Hannibal's smile was sharp and wet before he buried his face into Will's chest with searching lips.  
“I adore you,” he moaned, sucking lips over Will's right nipple. “Every fiber of you, Will.”

The words seeped into his skin as they moved, entangled as one as Hannibal pushed into him with determined, chasing jerks that made Will see little lights before his eyes as his ass contracted with pure pleasure. This was cruel. He could never go back from it.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his own tears spilling as Hannibal's hands roamed his body, his neck, his face. Kissing him and loving him and possessing him everywhere. “I can't believe this.”

Never in a million years had he admitted this a possibility. He had known it to be, of course, but never in a million years...

“I can't believe I'm letting you fuck me,” he whined, as strong hands stroked up his torso and squeezed his neck. “Ohh, God, yes, there.”

This wasn't a fuck. This was surrender. 

Hannibal's, as well as his.

“No,” Hannibal breathed on him, nuzzling him like a happy kitten as he fucked him with strength. “I'm making love to y-you, Will,” he said, cheeks and lips pink. “Showing my a-adoration for you with my b-body.” Will wailed when Hannibal's cock pounded on his prostate, and his cock started leaking dangerously onto Hannibal's lower abdomen, “and p-proving to understand and fulfill y-your needs.”

Every word was accompanied by a harsh, wet pant, and Will grasped the short hair on Hannibal's head as he pressed their temples together.

Maybe it wasn't surrender. Maybe it was courtship. Convince, rather than conquer. 

“This is insanity,” Will cried, his whole body shaking as his cock rubbed along the coarse hair of Hannibal's soft, strong lower belly, while Hannibal himself fucked into his ass and made his body twitch with every stroke. “Fuck, I can't take it.”

He was so close to orgasm, and clung to Hannibal like a monkey to its mother. His entire body was flushed and burning with overpowering ecstasy, and their bodies slotted together as one single soul.

“You can,” Hannibal encouraged, as he clung right back, holding Will and pressing kisses to his face and neck.

“I can't,” Will sobbed, feeling the mindless pressure building in his belly. “I'm going to fucking combust.”

One hand grasped his hip, as the other wrapped around the length of his cock. “So let go,” Hannibal urged, his voice a growl as his abs shifted hard beneath the flesh of his stomach. Then, the pace of their colliding bodies doubled, and the ladder shook with every wild thrust into Will's thrashing form.

“Fuck. Hannibal,” he cried, as he felt the hand on his cock clamping down rather than stroking him off.

“I love you, cunning boy,” Hannibal moaned into his ear, as lips searched to taste Will's skin.

Squeezing the head of his dick to keep him from coming.

“No,” Will sobbed, writhing faintly between them and only driving Hannibal in deeper. “Please.”

Hannibal's eyes flashed yellow and red before him as he fucked him hard and deep against the ladder. “I love you, Will. I love you,” he said, breathless and deep and so close it felt like the words were coming from Will's own lips.

Will thrashed, his cock held tightly and his ass burning with an evil bliss as his body screamed for release. “I hate you,” he keened. “I hate you, I hate you and I love you, you beast.” 

The hand on his cock loosened, before stroking down his length. 

One stroke up, and Will lost his mind. 

“Let me see you fall,” plush lips hissed against his ear, and Will's eyes went blind when a mighty wave crashed him hard to the ground of his own shape. White and light and hard and hot, Will's body clamped down on Hannibal's cock, and shuddered so wild the ladder shuddered with them. Inside, hot liquid was released as Hannibal came deep and pounding inside his body, with shoulders that shook and a mouth that spoke without sound.

The pleasure was thick like syrup, and it settled hot in Will's core as he felt a heavy weight collapse against him. His hands tightened, fingers back in those ash blond strands, as he clung to the man that shielded him in his arms.

“Oh God,” he heard himself sigh over and over until his voice died out. “Oh God.”

Heavy breathing, thundering heartbeats and drying, sticky cum. Their embrace was powerful and tight, as their hot, damp skin clung together, and their heat mingled into a shielding orb. 

When his legs threatened to give out, Hannibal pulled him from the ladder, and together they stumbled to the duvet. Will's coat and scarf fell to the floor as Will was laid out on top, with Hannibal hoisting up their pants, and sitting himself beside Will with eyes like candle flames. He blew out air between puffed cheeks, as if catching his breath.

He looked human.

“This is crazy,” Will breathed, his body weightless like a cloud as Hannibal's hand came to stroke his hair.

“I've never understood this feeling, described in literature and artwork,” Hannibal spoke, as if he hadn't heard him. His voice was soft and fragile, unsteady. “And never did I expect all those words and images to pale in comparison once I did.”

Their eyes were on the other, unwavering, and Hannibal's vision clouded with more tears. “You've professed your love for me,” he said, as if pushing down a blissful sob. “And I have never felt this filling happiness before.”

Will knew who he was and what he had done. Of course it was crazy.

Will's brow furrowed as he ran a finger through the white splatter on Hannibal's exposed abdomen, and watched the muscles delightfully contract. “It was right before I came all over your stomach,” he grunted, bringing his dirty finger to his mouth. “That doesn't count.”

He couldn't stop the smile that pulled on his lips when Hannibal took his finger, and sucked it clean inside his own mouth. An answering smile burned so bright it lit the room like a fire.

“Christmas has never felt this merry,” Hannibal said, tasting Will's cum and nuzzling his hand.

Will snorted, pushing himself up to lean on his elbows. “Jesus Christ, Hannibal,” he whined, as he opened his hand for Hannibal to bury his cheek in.

“This is the best gift I have ever received,” Hannibal said, and Will shifted on the duvet, feeling Hannibal's cum leak out of him and onto the furniture.

“A fuck?” he scoffed, and yelped when Hannibal slapped his thigh with a flat, stinging hand. The punishment was soothed by a warm kiss, as Hannibal leaned over to press their mouths together. 

“Your love,” he said into Will's mouth, who pretended to try and push him away before he kissed Hannibal back with sweet abandon.

“Stop,” he muttered into lips, as he brought his arms around the man, bringing him back between his legs and closer pressed upon him.

“Will you stay with me for the holidays?” Hannibal asked him between kisses that turned wet.

Their noses touched, rubbing affectionately.

“And then the end of days?”

Will scoffed again, before he laughed, his whole mouth opening to release the warm sound that reflected in those eyes of honey and blood.

Will could see the purest bliss when he sighed.

“Yeah, alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> A very merry Christmas to you all! May all your Hannigram hearts be full and a little naughty ;-)


End file.
